


One Wayward Pinch of Potassium Chlorate

by hoofies



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Injury Recovery, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-01-25 00:35:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1622621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoofies/pseuds/hoofies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Demo breaks his arm, and Medic refuses to heal it due to the foolish cause of the injury. Sniper offers to help take care of Demo in his time of need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Can't Trust Medics

It was disgusting, the amount of effort Medic put to antagonize him. A punishment, and for what? The blame couldn't precisely be put on him for causing the explosion that blew him 20 ft back into a wall and broke his arm in three places. There were other things to consider besides the fact that he was drunk and the one in charge of the potassium chlorate. For instance, Scout, and his mere existence, combined with Soldier's incessant bugling. But there was little to be done. Tavish had done all he could to try and convince Medic to heal his right arm. From bribery, to begging, to downright threatening. Nothing had worked, and so now he was stuck with a heavy plaster cast on his dominant arm, which rested tucked against his chest, thoroughly useless now. 

The only thing left to do was drink away his frustrations. Demo had downed the last of what he'd had open during the trip to the medbay after the incident. So he went to the kitchen, to his stash of booze, and got out a bottle of scrumpy, and a corkscrew. And then it dawned on him. You need two bloody hands to open a bottle of booze. And he's only got one. Tavish's face turned a ruddy red color as he got extremely angry, only managing to calm down as he heard the awkward shuffling of a certain sharp shooter. Sniper's walk was hard to mistake, as he had a tendency to drag his feet. 

Turning to look at the other, he watched as the taller man went for the coffee pot, going through the motions of preparing a new brew. "Bit late tae be drinkin' coffee," the Demoman commented, though he knew perfectly well that that fact had never stopped Sniper for making coffee at midnight before. There was a pause, which stretched on far too long for Demo to be comfortable, before Sniper was finished with preparing the coffee maker, and seemed to register he'd been addressed. "Wot? ...Oh. Uh, no, Oi don't think so," Mundy stated plainly, going to get a coffee mug, before actually looking at the other. 

He stared blatantly for a few moments, before pointing at the cast and sling on Tavish's right arm. "Wot's wif tha' then?" He asked, and Demo felt heat rising in his cheeks again, a combination of embarrassment and anger. "Wot's it look like? Ae broke me bloody arm," Tavish said, rather exasperated, though it didn't seem to phase Sniper. He nodded his head repetitively, humming lowly before speaking. "Medic won't heal yeh, huh?" the Sniper said, a vague hint of knowing in his tone. "He'll probably heal it once ceasefoiah's over. Yeh know, two weeks tops," he reassured him, and Demoman actually felt some relief hearing that. 

After he took a deep breath, willing the fire in his cheeks away, he made his plea to the taller individual. "Ae cain't really open this bottle wif uh. One arm," Tavish stated, holding up the scrumpy and looking hopefully at the other. The request went over Sniper's head, an amazing feat considering his stature. "Would ye open it for me, mate?" He asked after Mundy's only response was a sympathetic sound. The lightbulb went off and the Aussie reached for the bottle, spotting the corkscrew and getting to work on opening the damn thing. Once the cork was out, Demo felt his frustrations falling away already. Bottle in hand, he took his first gulp. And then a few more. And then a big breath, before Demo thanked the other, so moved by this act that he gave the Aussie an impromptu one armed hug. The Sniper stiffened, even in the simple light hold of an arm over his shoulders, taking a bit to relax, but Tavish'd already noticed. Pulling away and apologizing, there was a sort of awkward air around them for some time.

Eventually, Mundy spoke up once more. "Gonna be hard doin' lots o' things wifout two hands," He stated, looking at the coffee maker rather than at Demo. Wanting to see where Sniper was going with this, Tavish waited patiently for the other to speak up again. "Yer gonna need some help," He said a few moments later. "Yeah, Ae would, yer right, lad," the Demoman agreed, flapping his useless arm and huffing as the heavy cast thumped back down against his ribs. "Ye offerin'?" He asked, and the taller of the two just nodded for a while, before giving a half smile. "But Oi won't woipe yer arse fer yeh, sorry, mate," the sharp shooter joked, a look of surprise taking over Demo's face before he started laughing raucously. "No, but Ae might ask ye tae do me belt afterwards," He quipped back, both of them laughing a little softly after that. 

As Demo took a few more gulps of booze, the coffee maker went off behind them, beeping loudly, and visibly spooking the taller man, though he seemed fine after only a moment’s wince. Sniper turned to pour himself a mug full of joe, which he drank black, mostly out of laziness, but also out of habit, as his father had detered him from ever drinking 'doctored' coffee. "Oi was gonna go listen ta th' game. Cricket," Sniper said, and though Demo was more of a rugby sort of person, he shrugged his good shoulder, before agreeing. "Sure. Ain't got not'in else better tae do," He said, before motioning for the other to lead the way, booze sloshing out of the bottle slightly with the movement. 

Sniper took the lead, all the way out of the base, to the outskirts of the back parking lot, where his campervan was parked. He unlocked the various locks on the back door to the camper, before leading the way inside, to the small table with narrow bench seats on either side. There was booze already out on the table, imported beer bottles, some empty, some unopened, as well as a bag of crisps. Mundy sat down on the side that faced the door, which seemed to be his usual spot, and Demo sat across from him. While he wasn't exactly a thin man, he didn't consider himself particularly portly either, however, he still fit quite neatly into the seating, just enough room to breathe and not much else. The Sniper was also much shorter when sitting down, and his legs were right up near Tavish's under the table, bumping into his own when Sniper reached up to turn the radio on and tune in. 

As the night went on, and Tavish got more and more inebriated, and Sniper became more enthralled with the ongoing match, the conversation began to lull, and soon Demo found himself dozing off. Sniper caught on when he heard snoring, the Scot's head tilted to one side as he slept sitting up, empty scrumpy bottle in hand. Mundy jostled him awake, a snort coming from the darker man before he looked sleepily at the other. "C'mon, yeh c'n use me bed," He said, and though a protest was on his tongue, he decided not to argue. Sniper didn't seem like one to let just anybody into his own space, really. He rarely saw anyone out there with him who wasn't unwelcomed, and Sniper didn't hang around many folks other than Engineer and Heavy on occasion inside the base. So he figured, since it was a long walk back, and he was dreadfully tired... "Okay," Tavish said, wiggling out of the booth before stumbling to his feet, climbing the ladder up to the cramped bed space, and nearly slipping twice. Sniper put his hand on Demo's arse to steady him, and neither seemed to see anything out of the ordinary about that. 

"Noight," the Aussie said once Tavish was settled, and Tavish mumbled a slurred good night, before quickly conking out. Sleep came easiest to him when inebriated. And sleep never really came easy to Sniper. Who stayed up the whole night, listening to midnight talk shows and drinking coffee and beer, and watching over the slumbering Scotsman in his bed.


	2. Morning Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No idea. I cannot explain this. Just read it and enjoy the fact that the next chapter will be a shower scene.

A heavy crash woke Demoman the next day, and though his vision was blurred from a deep sleep, and his body cramped from the very tight space and shoddy mattress, he could still sorta see the cause. Sniper was seated at the little table and booth, rocking back and forth and flapping his hands, accidentally knocking empty bottles from the night before in the process. The noise that had awoken Tavish was his scrumpy bottle falling to the floor and shattering.

As his vision started to focus, he could make out a somewhat distressed look on the others face, but as he started to sit up and shift about, Mundy became aware of his waking and stopped immediately. Face turning deep red as he stared at Tavish before looking anywhere but at him, the Sniper offered no explanation and said nothing until the Scot clearly needed help getting out of bed.

It was an awkward struggle, because Tavish's only good arm was numb from being slept on, so Mundy had to basically haul the heftier bloke out of his bunk. But eventually, they were both on their feet, and the Demoman was able to shake the feeling back into his arm. "Ahh, bloody fookin'. Crampin' up, now," Tavish whined, to which Sniper offered a sympathetic grunt, uncertain of what to do with himself now.

"Wot was-?" Demo started, before Sniper very quickly interrupted him. "Nothin'," he said firmly, looking at the floor pointedly before he started getting out a kettle. "Yeh loike tea in the mornin's, huh?" Mundy said, Tavish surprised at the change of subject. "Yeah, Ae like-" Tavish started, cut off again by Sniper. "Taylor's, Scottish Breakfast Tea," the Aussie stated, getting out just such a thing from the cabinet above the stove.

Only one packet was missing, and Demo's mind was racing trying to explain the anomaly of someone like Sniper knowing these tiny details that, to be quite frank, his best friend Soldier rarely remembered. It was a combination of flattering and concerning, both paranoid about it as well as ecstatic. "Yeah... how'd ya know?" Tavish questioned, sniffling as he scratched at himself while Sniper wasn't looking.

The fact that he didn't answer right away was unsettling, but then he spoke up. "Pretty obvious, Oi mean. We always got this tea in stock, and yer th' only tea drinkin' Scot on th' team..." Sniper said, and Tavish felt quite sheepish. "Guess it's pretty typical," Demo said lamely after a bit, before starting to laugh at his own paranoia.

"Thanks," He said, "Fer everything. Though Ae don't think Ae'll be sleepin' in yer bed again, soon," the slightly shorter man complained, still chuckling a bit. "Don't know how yer comfortable up there," he mumbled, Sniper just shrugging slowly in response. "Oi loike it. But maybe next toime we have a sleepover, it can be in yer room," the Sniper said, tone a bit childish and strangely innocent as he spoke.

The Scot couldn't help but smile and chuckle a bit, and come up closer to the other, gently patting at his back. "Yeah, sure. Next toime we'll have tae do each other's hair an' nails, though. Ain't a proper sleepover wifout that," Tavish joked, and surprisingly enough, Mundy sort of leaned in to his touch. So he smoothed his hand down the Aussie's back, rubbing at it as they waited for the water to boil, and then on through as Sniper prepared a mug for him.

Everything seemed much calmer now, and Tavish had nearly forgotten about the incident that woke him up, until he went to sit at the booth with his tea, and nearly stepped on shattered glass. "Sorry!" Sniper said as he rushed to clean things up, so the other could take a seat, his face red as he cleaned up the broken bottles and tossed the bits out, pricking his fingers on the shards but ignoring the blood that dribbled out of his digits and palms.

"Made such a bloody mess, fackin' stupid drongo," He mumbled, just barely audible to the Scot, who tried to mind his business and not pry. Though he did frown and feel guilty over the other's clear unhappiness with... whatever he'd been doing before. But soon everything was clean, and Sniper ushered him into the booth, sitting across from him and wringing a towel in his hands to stop the bleeding.

The first sip of tea was always a pleasure, especially with a dry mouth that tasted vaguely like he'd been horribly sick recently, though such was usually after a night of drinking. And neither seemed to mind just sipping their own drinks, Sniper having procured a mug of coffee somehow. But eventually the topic of breakfast came up, as Tavish stomach grumbled loudly about being empty.

"It's lunch toime," Sniper explained, to which Tavish's jaw dropped. "Slept that late? Bloody-- HELL, mate, why'd ya let me sleep in?" The Scot groused, Sniper smiling lopsidedly as he tried to process whether or not the other was truly bothered. Tentatively, Mundy spoke up. "Wanna git some burgers fer lunch?" He offered, pushing his glasses up his nose as he gave the other a quick once over.

Far too tempting, the Demoman could not refuse, and nodded in agreement as they both finished off their drinks. "Ya payin'?" He asked, and Mundy nodded, which brought out a big smile on the darker man's face. "Aw'right, yeah. Burgers, sounds good," Tavish agreed, letting Sniper take his mug to rinse off and put away. "Roight, we aughta get yeh changed first..." the Aussie contemplated, and after an agreement to that as well, the two left the campervan to go get clean and dressed.


End file.
